


The Last Shaman

by EarthBoundRaven



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-29
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 21:22:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6394318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthBoundRaven/pseuds/EarthBoundRaven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follows the adventures of Dorian the Shaman as he attempts to rebuild his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Shaman

It was cold out in the Aurelian fields. The stars were just peeking out behind the velvet blue curtain of night and the fog was rolling in from the east. Slowly, it covered the many brightly colored tents spread out across the grass and gradually enveloped two figures who sat side by side on a large stone on the outskirts of the camp, the home of their people, the Shamans.  
This stone was the Stone of Binding, where the elders of the tribe would perform ceremonies, such as marriage, coming of age, and sacrifices to the gods. Technically, the two young men sitting there weren't allowed to be there, but it was the only private place they could find. No one would be coming out for hours anyway. Not in this weather.  
The figure on the right slouched a little and played with a ring on his finger, his dark green eyes occasionally glancing over in the direction of his companion. His long, dark hair was in his face, but he didn't bother to fix it right now. No one was here to watch except for his friend.  
"Cold night, eh Standr?" he asked finally, breaking the silence. "By Earth, the stars look more like they are made of ice than of fire at the moment."  
His companion said nothing, only sat up straighter and stared across the fields to the horizon. Or what they could see of it. He looked majestic, heroic; his long brown hair pulled behind his head in a thick braid, his sharp jawline firmly set. A small beginning of a beard was on his chin, making him look like a seasoned warrior. Which, of course, he would be in a few years.  
The first man sighed and looked down awkwardly, watching his breath rise into the air like a little cloud and disappearing into the fog around it. "You know," he said, not one to be silent for any period of time really, "this is the quietest 'talk' I've ever had the pleasure of being a part of. Even the grass is less silent than you, my friend. Will you not tell me what you called me here for?"  
Standr finally exhaled and looked to his friend. After a few moments he spoke.  
"Tell me, Dorian, if a wiseman told you to do something...something drastic in exchange for knowledge...would you do it?"  
"It depends," Dorian answered slowly.  
"On what?"  
"On what the deed was, and what knowledge was to be gained by doing it."  
Standr let out a nervous laugh and looked away, to the North. "That's typical of you. You always overthink things and let them get in the way of success."  
Insulted, Dorian frowned. "What in the world is that supposed to mean?"  
"I have something to ask of you. It concerns your safety."  
Dorian shook his head in amazement. "You are acting quite odd, my friend..."  
"Hush. They come nearer. They asked, and I gave; I was wrong. I was so wrong, Dorian...will you forgive me?"  
"Hang on," replied the flustered man, going back to fiddling with his ring. "Who did you give what to, and why? Does this have to do with that 'deed for knowledge' question?"  
Standr turned to Dorian and rested a hand on his shoulder. He opened his mouth to speak, but happened to glance back at the village and his face paled. "Dorian. Whatever happens, keep quiet and follow me." Sliding forward and off the stone, he bent his knees as they hit the ground and waited for his friend, who sighed again and reluctantly followed.  
It was only when they had reached the tent closest to the stone that Dorian realized what Standr had been talking about and he jumped up, his mouth open in a scream of horror, only silenced by Standr's hand over his mouth.  
A man dressed in long, silver blue robes stood in the center of the camp. His hair was long and shone dark red in the light of the torches. Tall were his ears, and pointed at the ends, and his eyebrows were more slanted than a man.  
/An Elf! Here? Why?/ thought Dorian, but that was not why he had nearly screamed. Only a few feet away from him, stiff and cold in death, was the body of a young woman. Her side was gashed open, blood pooling on the ground beneath her. In the hand of the Elf was a fist-sized glowing jewel.  
It was her heart.  
But she was not the only corpse. Lying around her were the bodies of elders, mothers, children...unmoving and pale, their chests torn open. Their eyes were shut, and they looked eerily peaceful, an expression that sent a shiver down Dorian's spine.  
It was only now that he began to understand. Tearing himself away from his friend's grasp, he stood, shaking with fear, grief, and rage. "You traded the secret to our magick for knowledge!" he shouted, tears filling his eyes despite his attempts to keep them away. "I don't know what the knowledge was, but I can tell you--it is NOT WORTH THE LIVES OF YOUR KIN!"  
Before Standr could answer, the Elf stepped forward, an evil smile forming on his lips. "You did well, young Shaman. Now it is time for you to gain your reward. You wanted knowledge...I will give you the answer to the ultimate question..." The young man stumbled backwards, shaking his head. "I never wanted this...I never thought you would destroy all of them..."  
The Elf smiled and raised a staff he held in his other hand. Standr froze as he was lifted from the ground by an unseen force. A beam of light poured out of the gem and pierced his chest...  
And Dorian did something he would never forgive himself for.  
He ran.


End file.
